There's no point in explaining now that the "War on Christmas" was produced wholly in the depths of the Id Workshop that is the Fox News Channel. There's no point in explaining how ashamed any legitimate outlet that gave this nonsense a half-minute’s thought should be, let alone three minutes of precious airtime or five precious column inches. At this point, what with his having hung his libido on the phone lines with care, O'Reilly should be treated in the more respectable precincts of the media the same way those bearded gentlemen who claim the Rockefellers infested Harvard with space aliens are. He should be greeted at the door with a smile, a pat on the back, and a handful of Thorazine, and then sent on his way. What was worse about this, though, was that he dragged my holiday into his own megalomania. It was like going to the zoo and seeing your beloved heirlooms being thrown around the monkey house.

I don't love Christmas because some people don't. I don't love Christmas because I got caught talking dirty to a subordinate, paid her off, and now have to recoup my position as an arbiter of family values and a peddler of overpriced slacks. (If you were Bill O'Reilly, would you try to sell anyone your pants? Who would buy them? Wouldn't they have to come equipped with both a lawyer and a Hazmat suit?) I don't love Christmas because it makes me better than anyone else.

God, what a tortured, joyless place that must be to live. At least, Scrooge had an excuse. His father was a creep and his sister died, and Belle dumped him because he was trying to make a go in business. Early on, when his estranged nephew tells him he doesn't keep Christmas, he replies, sensibly, "Let me leave it alone then." A sensible response, given what had happened to him. It wasn't for him, but he didn't try to ruin anyone else's Christmas -- not even that of Bob Cratchit, to whom he grudgingly gave the whole day off. No wonder the Spirits gave him a second chance. He was at least open, somehow, to the possibilities of the season.

These guys, though, they're infinitely beyond that "wretched, covetous old sinner," to quote the (well-written) Spirit of Christmas Past. They claim to enjoy the season and then use it to bludgeon everyone else.